Positively Mine Read Online Free Page A

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    Riding down the hill past the freshman dorms, Kashong Lake shimmers deep turquoise, and the warmth of the late morning sun offsets the coolness in the air. Given that it has rained almost every day since I arrived in August, students are taking full advantage with blankets laid out on the grassy shoreline, bikini tops by the dozen, and radios blaring. I pass Joni’s Hot Truck, a sandwich shop on wheels, on a nearby side street, and there’s a line down the road with people waiting for her amazing grilled paninis.
    Main Street turns into Lake Road, taking me past the marina, and then along Kashong Lakeshore Park, where the picnickers, runners and motorcyclists are out in droves.
    Eight and half miles go quickly with my mind distracted by the beauty beside me. But once off the lake, the rest of the ride is not as easy since it is mostly uphill. My legs burn with the sloped terrain and my mind slips back to my situation.
    I don’t even know why I let it happen. Maybe I felt like we needed to finally get it over with – which is terrible. Let’s get the sex over with. But we were caught somewhere between friend and boyfriend/girlfriend status for so long. Something needed to change.
    He was the first person I met on Shelter Island when my dad bought a house there a few years back. I may as well have been a permanent fixture on his boat this past summer. It didn’t necessarily seem like a bad thing when we finally hooked up. But there was always this vague tension between us. We’d be together all summer long and then barely talk during the school year. Even though I must have invited him into the city a dozen times, he’d never come.
    Still, even if we weren’t meant to be, to blow me off the way he did with only a text two nights later to make sure that we were – to put it in his exact words – good?
What is that?
    Oh, we’re good. We’re REAL good now.
    As I crest the next hill, I whisper, “What do I do?”
    The September breeze has no answer for me.
    My legs ache with each incline, and I’m almost ready to surrender when Seneca Lake comes into view off in the distance, popping through the orange maples. It’s been three years since I was here, and the sight of that glassy pool with the low-lying clouds hovering over it like a bowl of cotton brings a rush of memories – long lazy days on my grandparents’ farm, riding on the tractor with my grandfather, baking cookies with my grandmother, days when I was a kid and my mom was still alive.
    I let my bike coast down to the valley. A dash of anticipation has me pedaling faster once I reach Route 14, knowing I’m only a few miles from what was once one of my favorite places in this entire world. The last time I was here, my dad and I were boxing up the contents of closets, arranging for a Goodwill pick-up of clothes. Coming back after that seemed too depressing.
    But I couldn’t put it off forever, could I?
    The white wooden fence that runs the length of the thirty-acre property emerges when I veer around a bend in the road. Like most wineries around here, it starts up high on a hill with rows of trellised grape vines rambling down a gentle slope, finally settling at water’s edge. I ride past the small parking lot and the red barn turned tasting-room, now all boarded up. There’s a gaping hole in the roof, and it looks like with enough wind, the whole thing could topple over.
    Finally reaching the tree-lined drive at the far end, I hop off my bike. The stake holding the “For Sale” sign has almost completely tipped over, and it is teetering close to the ground, muddy from all the rain. I’m tempted to push it down. Who is going to buy this place anyway? My dad’s been trying to unload it for years.
    My stomach is suddenly in knots, and I don’t know if it’s from nerves or hunger. I did not plan this well. Dresden is in the middle of nowhere – miles from any place to get groceries, at least. I always forget how different it is up here after